Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Drink, drugs, and nonstop parties! The out of control lifestyle of pop star Rebel Cayne.

-Tal Tattler

WinterHe stood under the cold water of the shower. He lathered and rinsed several times, but he could not remove the scent of herbs and citrus—the scent of his female—from his nostrils.

No, not his female.

His behavior was unacceptable, even if it sprang from a place of protectiveness.

Intention did not matter. Even if the male had not been her brother and turned out to be her false mate, it was not his place to be defensive. Marigold was not his female and not his mate. He would never have another mate. What did he care if her piss poor excuse of a mate came sniffing back, tail in hand and begging for forgiveness?

He did not care.

The water and soap rinsed away the oil, but it did not ease the tension. His c**k ached like a bad tooth. Her scent was all around and he craved more. He wanted to bury his face in the pillows on the bed, roll around on the sheet until their scents mingled together. Even more, he had the desire to dig through her wardrobe and steal a memento. Not just any memento, but a scrap of silk and lace, the kind he caught a glimpse of on the boat.

Yes. The longer he thought on it, the more he became convinced of the merit of the idea. She would not know, and if he could have a piece of fabric that smelled intensely of her, he could relieve some of the building pressure.

Out of the shower, he quickly dried. His clothes still had a few more minutes in the cleansing unit before they would be ready, giving him time.

He crept out of the cleansing room, a towel wrapped around his waist. The door to the sleeping chamber was shut. No one saw him open the top drawer in the wardrobe, and no one saw him stare at an unfolded pile of undergarments.

He could not pick through to find the perfect pair. What if Marigold had the messy pile memorized? She would know.

Snatching the pair off the top, lace in a pale fabric, he slammed the drawer shut. Placing the lace to his nose, he took a deep breath. His c**k twitched as he rubbed the silky fabric against his jaw. No one would ever discover what he took.

The room held the lingering scent of another male. He wanted—needed—to rub his face to the pillows, marking them with his scent glands. The pillows, the bedsheets, her panties, everything, to replace the stench of her false mate.

The towel slid to the floor. His c**k leaked. d**k in hand, he gave himself a stroke. It was a violation to abuse her trust, jerking himself off in her bedroom while he rubbed his face against her panties, but he needed the release. He had not felt this level of desire, any desire, in so long that he believed his c**k no longer functioned properly.

She stirred him back to life.

She never backed down from his rudeness and disdain, instead meeting his ill temper with humor and resolve. He did not believe she could be cruel. Even at his worst, even while he tried his best to gut her brother, her words were kind and patient.

His hand worked the length of his c**k. He imagined how she would appear on her knees, dark eyes blown wide with desire and her lips parted, eager to taste him. He wondered at the feel of her blunt human teeth, contrasted with the texture of her human tongue, the heat and softness of her.

With a barely restrained groan, he spilled in his hands. Panting, he stood in her sleeping chamber. When sense returned, he cleaned himself, dressed, and tucked the panties into a pocket.

By all the seven virtues, he did not deserve a female like her.

MarigoldJust when she thought two men covered in herb-infused olive oil, wrestling on her kitchen floor was a new low, along came another.

Apparently Tomas hadn’t paid off their furniture, like he claimed. Mari held her plate of chicken and mac and cheese, shocked and unable to process what exactly was happening as the repo people carted away her table and chairs. Joseph, thankfully, had the wherewithal to clear off their dinner.

“I don’t understand,” she muttered. “Did you send an overdue notice? I’ve been checking my mail.”

“Payment was due today. If you got the credits on you now, we’ll bring your stuff back,” the man said, barely glancing up from his clipboard. “Copper pots and pans set?”

She pointed to the cabinet under the cooktop and said, “Take it. I don’t want to look at it.” Not to mention she didn’t have the credits, but she also didn’t want to look at the junk anymore. The furniture, the painting on the wall, even the pots and pans, were artifacts from a previous life.

“Think of it like having movers you don’t have to pay for,” Joseph said helpfully.

“I already have that. I have you.”

He snorted. “Oh no, you were going to pay.”

Winter emerged from the back, brow furrowed as two men carried out the sofa.

This was embarrassing. “Good shower?” she asked, desperate to do anything other than explain why strangers were carting off her possessions.

“Ah, yes. The water pressure was adequate.” His tail twitched behind him. “I must apologize for my behavior. You were not who I expected but my reaction was uncalled for,” he said, speaking to Joseph.

Her brother’s brows hiked right up to his hairline. “If Tomas walked through the door, I’d tackle him too.”

“Regardless. Now,” he gave Joseph a brief nod and turned to speak to Mari, “I must retrieve my kit before he spends all my credit on books. I will see you on the ship tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there,” Mari said.

As Winter left, Joseph elbowed her in the side. “Oww! Stop it.”

“Then stop staring at his butt,” Joseph said.

“I was not.”

“Was too,” her brother retorted, clearly at the height of his sibling sass-back game.

Maybe she stared a little. It was a nice butt.

The repo team moved out the furniture one piece at a time. She sat on the floor, hugging the potted plant in desperate need of a good watering, and ate chicken right out of the container. She wasn’t going to get emotional. This was only stuff.

Joseph took a swig from the wine bottle, winced, then passed it to her.

She gagged at the taste of the wine and pushed the bottle back at him. “That’s awful. Why did you buy such a bad wine?”

“It’s not bad. It was dropped. I told you that.”

“f**k it. Give it back.” The wine tasted just as terrible the second time around, but as the warmth of the wine spread through her, she found she didn’t care.

The repo team carried out the sofa and chairs, rolled up the carpet that always reminded her of sunshine and flowers, and dismantled the entertainment center. They emptied out her clothes from the wardrobe and dresser into a pile on the bed, then carted those away. At the end, all that remained was the mattress on the floor and pile of her clothes.

“I don’t even care,” she said. “It’s not like when Tomas and I picked out the furniture, it was because we were starting our life together and I was happy. I wasn’t.”

“You were,” Joseph said, taking the last swing from the bottle.

“I was not.”

“A little.”

“A little,” she conceded. The truth was that furnishing the apartment together felt like a dream. Each item was a promise towards the future they were building together. Tomas insisted on spoiling her and dumping all her old secondhand items for new ones. It was their home, after all. He told her not to worry about the expense. He’d take care of it, and she believed him.

She believed all of it.

“Fuck.” She banged the back of her head against the wall. “How does he keep finding ways to hurt me?”

“More chicken?” He offered her the last piece.

“I don’t need to eat my emotions.” Still, she took the last piece.

“Good thing you’re not staying here. Mom will want to smudge the place with sage. Probably still will.”

She nodded. Her life was a hot mess. Her apartment was a bigger mess. All she owned was a set of dishes, boxes of tea—why did she have so much tea?—and her entire wardrobe dumped in a pile on the floor.

Hot. Mess.

“Hey, this isn’t a bad thing,” Joseph said.

“How?” She waved a hand, indicating the enormity of everything. “Mom told you about the moneylender, right? So I’ve got that to deal with.”

Winter gave her an advance on payment for the job, which she immediately sent to Nox. Hopefully that would be enough to keep him from harassing Valerian and Joseph.

“Mom mentioned that, but I was thinking that you’ve got a big heart and you care about people. That makes you vulnerable to certain buttfaced starsucking voidholes,” Joseph said.

“Are you trying to make me feel better? I honestly can’t tell.”

“I mean, just because a bad person took advantage of your good nature, doesn’t mean… f**k. I don’t know. Don’t beat yourself up because you wanted to believe in love and heart eyes and all that shit.”

Joseph’s words pulled a reluctant laugh from her. “Such a poet. We should pack,” she said.

“Screw packing. Let’s shovel your s**t into bags.”

“I need to find enough for the trip to Corra.”

“Fine. Point me to a pile and I’ll box it up and send it to Mom’s,” Joseph said.

Before the warm buzz of the wine left, they cleared the pile and she had a bag packed. Amazing how fast it went when she didn’t have to worry about moving furniture or packing a few dozen boxes of junk.

By the time she curled up on her sad little mattress on the floor, she was ready to move on from the lies and half-truths of Tomas. A final confrontation and giving him a piece of her mind would be great for closure, but watching their life being dismantled one lounge chair at a time really drove the point home. It was over, and she was glad to be done with it.

As she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts turned to Winter. Mr. Growly Claws, as Joseph named him.

A slow smile spread on her face.

He was an insensitive jerk, unquestionably, but not to the people he cared about. He had fought to defend her honor, as old fashioned as that sounded. It was sweet, in an uncivilized, toxic way, but endearing nonetheless.

Winter couldn’t be interested in her. Not really. She wasn’t special. She was convenient. He said as much. Attractive enough and tolerable.

He mistook Joseph for Tomas and went for him not because he felt territorial or protective about her. That was simply the kind of guy he was. She saw it first hand with how he rearranged his life for his son.

His marriage proposal was an offer of convenience. Nothing more.

So what if she liked looking at his cute butt? She had a dozen good reasons why getting involved with Winter was a bad idea. First, she was not ready for a romantic relationship. Second, the kid. If she and Winter acted on their attraction, it’d burn hot and bright for a minute, then die out. They’d be hurting more than themselves when it ended.

No. Better to keep it professional. The Caynes needed a friend. She could do that. Just that.

WinterHe noticed the male immediately, leaning against the corridor wall, dressed in a ludicrously complicated outfit with far too many buttons and preening like a fool. His tail swished from side to side, somehow being insolent.

Winter recognized the male’s scent immediately from Marigold’s domicile.

“Sunshower sure does get a lot of visitors,” the male said with a grin that needed to be punched right off his smug face.

Winter’s hand curled into a fist. “Her name is Marigold and you do not get to speak her name.”

“So protective.” The male pushed himself off the wall. “But until she pays what she owes me, I can call her whatever I want.”

Ah. The moneylender.

“You got your credits, so leave her be.”

“A partial payment that merely bought her time, not freedom from my attention.”

Winter’s lip curled back. Smashing the moneylender’s face would be satisfying to feel bone give way and blood spray under his fist.

“Now, now.” The male clucked his tongue, as if sensing Winter’s thoughts. “Calm yourself, Winter Cayne, very important male whose temper is notorious and mate questionably deceased—”

“Enough,” he snapped. “What do you want?”

The lender smiled, baring too much fang. He quoted a figure. It was substantial but not insurmountable, in Winter’s opinion. His accounts would barely notice the absence.

“And how much to pay it off now?”

He cited a slightly higher figure. “Processing fee, you understand.”

Winter reached for his comm unit, then hesitated. Males of this sort were scavengers. Once they smelled blood, they’d never lose the trail. They returned back for more. “If I pay this, you leave Marigold alone. She is free of the debt and any obligation to you or your organization.”

“Of course. I’ll even write you a receipt. I am a professional, after all.” The male dramatically patted down his coat pockets and produced a folded tablet. With a snap of his wrist, the tablet unfurled. “Now, how to describe this transaction. Spoiled aristocrat buys the affection of a human female to the amount of—”

“Do not write that. Write that Marigold’s debts are paid in full.”

“Oh, there’s an additional fee for that too.”

Winter did not hesitate to pay and send the credits to the male. This was the correct course of action. He could discharge the debt that hung over Marigold, and should he not? It was only currency and he had plenty of that. He would have her as his mate and he would remove her objections one by one until only the truth of her heart remained.